I Dated Someone Who Believed in ‘Main Character Energy’
I Dated Someone Who Believed in ‘Main Character Energy’
I Dated Someone Who Believed in ‘Main Character Energy’
And it was a nightmare...
Let me start with this: he looked like a walking Pinterest board.
Messy hair, ripped jeans, almond latte in a stone blue Stanley cup, cork journal in the other hand. He had the vibe of someone who journaled daily but still ghosted people for “mental clarity.”
I should’ve known I wasn’t dating a man, I was dating a brand.
He called it “main character energy.”
I called it what it really was: emotional colonization.
From our first date, it was like I’d stepped into his indie rom-com. He picked the café ("it has the best lighting for candids"), suggested the bookshop next door ("I love women who read Murakami"), and even offered to take a picture of me reading. Spoiler: it never made it to his story. But he posted a blurry snap of his own reflection in a mirror titled “just somewhere healing.”
I wasn’t the love interest. I was the lighting crew.
Every moment we shared was curated. Not for us, for his followers. When we kissed for the first time, he whispered, “This feels cinematic.” Not intimate. Cinematic. Like I was kissing someone who could already see the trailer.
His compliments were, scripted. Or maybe ChatGPT-written,,,
His vulnerability was algorithm-friendly.
He legit once told me, “I love how you bring a calm energy to my chaos.”
Translation: I love how you don’t interrupt my monologues.
It wasn’t long before I realized I was a plot device in the film of his self-obsession. When I talked about my work, he’d pivot to how his art was misunderstood. When I cried after a fight, he asked, “Do you think this will change us, narratively?”
Narratively.
Bro. This isn’t Euphoria. This is my heart.
He didn’t want a relationship.
He wanted someone who looked good in a soft-focus Reel.
The worst part... for a while, I played along. I mean he was hot.
I edited my emotions. I smiled for his content.
I dimmed myself so his glow-up could shine.
Because let’s face it, we’ve all been taught, especially as girls, to fall for “the brooding, misunderstood artist.” We romanticize men who are just... emotionally unavailable but with good posture.
And when I left, he posted a moody sunset with the caption:
"Some people are just chapters. I’m on my final act.”
Sir, you didn’t even read my bio.
So here’s what I learned:
Main character energy is cute on TikTok, not in real life.
If someone makes you feel like a guest star in their story, rewrite the damn script. Be your own chaotic, honest, heart-bruised lead. Full of plot holes, but real.
Because love isn’t supposed to be a highlight reel.
It’s messy, mutual, and off-camera.
And if he still thinks he’s the main character?
Let him monologue in peace.
You’ve got better scenes to live.
